And... nothing happened.

Hermione blinked. She'd expected... well... something. The scroll to vanish in a blinding flare of light, Ron to Floo in screaming, thunder and lightning or...

Well, she'd at least expected to be pretty pervy over Snape.

She tried thinking about Snape, experimentally. Nothing had changed there; he was still her grumpy bastard Potions professor, with his bad attitude and his condescending smirks and his brilliant mind and his sharp, regal features and his sensual, kissable lips...

Uh-oh.

She called up the vision she'd seen in the Pensieve, and that was the same too, except... huh. That little funny twingey feeling she'd had, that 'eww-that's-my-teacher-what's-wrong-with-me' feeling, had buggered off properly, and in its place was...

Oh, huh.

Very interesting things happening in her stomach, there.

Okay, Granger, this is not so bad. He was right; the potion took the edge off. You don't hate him as much as you did, you're not totally barmy over him either, and you... well... you sort of want to shag him. That's okay; you have to shag him, so that works out. And, well, to be quite honest, you were sort of wanting to shag him before, weren't you? This is not so bad.

Hermione collected the marriage bids briskly, sticking them back in her drawer. This was not so bad at all.

See? You made the right decision. As much as you loved Ron as a friend, you'd probably be Flooing to the Cannons practice pitch right now to snog him silly.

Hermione stumbled, catching herself with a hand on the edge of the dresser. The minute the thought of kissing Ron had entered her mind, she'd felt a little nauseous.

She recalled Arthur Weasley's voice: There are... other compulsions. To ensure the, ah, production of children, and, um... faithfulness.

Faithfulness. Right. She guessed she wouldn't be doing any more rolling around in the sculpture garden with...

Hermione put her hand over her mouth, dry-heaving.

Okaaaaay. Apparently won't be revisiting that memory too often. Maybe I ought to get a Pensieve of my own...

Still, though... not that bad, all things considered. She had a wee little crush on Snape now, and that was certainly manageable; she'd had a wee little crush on Lockhart, and he'd never even known...

Snape has to know, though.

Oh.

Hermione's knees gave out, and she sat down hard on the edge of the bed. She'd thought about the Binding, she'd thought about the babies, she'd thought about pretty much everything...

Except actually having to tell Snape that Ron had bid for her, and she'd married him instead.

---

Harry held the portrait open for her, looking at her curiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine... why?"

"You kept wincing during Transfiguration... you didn't eat much at breakfast."

"It's girl stuff."

"Girl stuff?"

"I forgot, you're not Ron. Cramps."

"Oh," Harry said stiffly. "Sorry."

"I'm sure I'll miss them when I'm waddling around taking my NEWTs."

Harry looked at her, seemed to look through her. "You're being utterly weird, you know. Utterly. You look like your smile's being held in place with tape."

"It's PMS."

"Hermione. I see you every day. I know when you've got PMS, okay?"

Hermione gritted her teeth as another sharp pain went through her leg. "You don't know."

"All right, fine. Once a month, you lock yourself in your room gorging on Chocolate Frogs for no apparent reason that has nothing to do with anything. All I'm saying is that even then, you don't get all... creepily-manic-psycho-cheerful."

"I'm a very pleasant person."

"Well, yes... you are... but lately, y'know. I'd gotten a bit used to snarly Punk Rock Hermione, what gives?"

Hermione leaned over, ignoring the intensifying pain in her side as she did. "I'm Bound to Snape. And Harry, it's not so bad... I think how much I don't like him is keeping me from... y'know... Dorcas-ing."

Harry had to process that a moment. "You're Bound?"

"I signed the contract yesterday."

"What did Snape say?"

"Well... I haven't told him."

"He's married to you, and he doesn't know it?"

"Well, we're not married-married, we don't have to get married-married, it's all a Ministry Binding, the Ministry doesn't care if I get dressed up and eat cake... I mean really, a ceremony's pointless, I think the whole thing is..."

"You're babbling. You babble when you're in pain. How badly does it hurt?"

"It's just cramps, Harry, honestly."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And you'd tell me if it wasn't, right?"

"Sure. The thing is, Harry, I'm thinking... I'm thinking maybe I won't have to tell him."

"Hermione, you have to tell him."

"Well, if I'm not going to be all... hopping about after him, then why? Why do I have to tell him? Maybe they'll repeal the law. That could happen, right?"

"It is way too late to chicken out of telling Snape."

"I'm not chickening out! I just need some more time! I signed the contract too fast, I had a few more days, I should have waited, it's just not fair, it's -- oh..."

Hermione sat down on the stairs abruptly.

"Hermione! Have you seen Snape at all?"

"He's sick, Harry, I don't want to bother him, the man's been Death Eatered, he doesn't need my problems, I think I should wait until he's better, don't you? I really think I should wait until he's better..."

"This isn't cramps," Harry spat, "It's Cruciatus, and it's just going to get worse and worse... how many hours have you been Bound?"

"I don't know. I can't remember."

"Try."

"I don't know, Harry! It hurts to think..."

"Can you walk?"

"Yes. No. Maybe?"

Harry slung his backpack off, peeling hers off her shoulders before lifting her into his arms.

"Harry..."

"Shut it, Hermione. We've got to find Snape."

"You're mad at me..." she whispered.

"I'm not mad. I'm furious. There's a difference. You could have died!"

There was something important, very important, she wanted to tell Harry, but she couldn't remember what it was... and it was getting so dark anyway, it didn't seem to matter...

---

Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she recoiled at the sight of unfamiliar stonework above her. She tried to sit up, but something on her wrist was dragging her down...

She stared at her wrist stupidly, comprehension dawning slowly...

They'd tied her to Snape.

Small, thin ropes was wrapped and knotted around her arm and Snape's, holding them together.

Why in the hell would they...

Her eyes roamed from Snape's arm to his face, and Hermione gasped.

A massive white bandage covered most of his forehead; his eyes were rimmed in purple, his skin even paler than usual. Shallow cuts gleamed angry red over his cheeks and throat.

If this is how he looks after he's been in Pomfrey's care for a few days... oh my God, what did he look like when he got back?

"Much worse, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Much worse."

Hermione whipped around. Dumbledore sat in an armchair by the fire, regarding her over the tops of his glasses, his long, thin fingers pressed together.

"I'm afraid that Professor Snape is going to be very confused when he wakes up," Dumbledore continued.

"Can I -- can I untie myself?"

Dumbledore waved his wand, and the bindings on her arm fell away.

"Come sit by me, Miss Granger." The teapot at Dumbledore's side raised itself, pouring a long strand of tea into a cup.

Hermione scooted herself off the bed, shuffling to the chair opposite Dumbledore. "Is everyone furious at me?"

"Mr. Potter was quite livid with worry, but worry was what it was. You should not have tried to resist the effects of the Binding so long, you know. Harry's quite right; you could have died."

"I... I didn't want to bother Snape..."

"Professor Snape is both less and more terrifying than he appears, Miss Granger. Although I daresay he will be quite fearsome when he finds out what you've done. Professor Snape does not like liabilities."

"Liabilities?"

"A wife and two children are rather powerful tools for Voldemort to use against him, don't you think?"

Hermione's face fell, her teacup rattling in her hands. She hadn't thought about it quite like that...

"Miss Granger. You made the right decision. It's merely a complicated situation. Professor Snape has made certain choices that... cause him to view the glass as half-empty."

"How... how do you view the glass?"

"I think you're rather less of a liability and rather more of a weapon, Miss Granger. A formidable one. How are you feeling?"

"Uh... I'm fine."

"You're aware of the terms of the marriage law?"

"I... well... I tried to find the exact terms of it, but I couldn't... most of what I know, I got from Arthur Weasley..."

"I believe the Ministry has kept this cloaked in secrecy and fine print on purpose, Miss Granger. Allow me to distill it."

Hermione took a deep breath.

"You will find -- or perhaps you have already found -- that intimate relations, or even the thought of them, with someone who is not your husband will make you very ill."

She nodded.

"There are physical contact requirements. These can be met, at the minimum, by five hours of sustained, casual, flesh-on-flesh contact. This is why we tied you to Professor Snape. You will find that the more... involved the contact is, the shorter the time required."

"I don't understand."

Wow. Never seen Dumbledore blush before...

"Ah. Well. If Professor Snape had been well enough for the two of you to..."

"Have marital relations?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "'Marital relations' fulfill the time requirement immediately. Intimacy, to varying degrees, will speed the process. Had you kissed Professor Snape, it might have taken twenty minutes or so off... do I need to fill in the rest of the blanks?"

"No, Headmaster."

"Until Professor Snape regains consciousness, I suggest you spend your evenings down here. Sleeping next to him will fulfill your requirements."

"I--I don't know how to get here, sir."

"Allow me to give you your first wedding present, Miss Granger." Dumbledore held out a slender gold band with a small, round stone set in the top.

"Wedding ring?"

"And Portkey. Note the direction of the engravings around the stone. Wear them pointed towards you normally; turning them will activate the Portkey. Left for here; Right for your own room. Anyone or anything touching your skin, goes with you."

Hermione held the ring up to the firelight, nodded, and slipped it on her finger.

"Would you... would you like Professor McGonagall to discuss with you the, ah, basics of..."

"I've read a lot of books, Headmaster."

"Of course you have. Of course you have."

"Headmaster... am I married? Am I... Mrs. Snape?"

"You are civilly Bound in the eyes of the Ministry; legally, yes, you are Mrs. Snape. Whether you marry or not, whether you choose to call yourself that or not, is up to you and Professor Snape. A marriage, however, will last beyond the boundaries of the Binding... your current contract will expire when the Binding does."

"Oh. Well, I don't want to get married, then..."

"As you wish, Miss Granger."

"Headmaster..."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to tell Professor Snape, or..."

"As a Gryffindor, Miss Granger, I know you have the bravery to confront the most difficult situations. Therefore, I will allow you to handle this most difficult task."

Hermione sagged into her chair.

"I will tell Professor Snape," Dumbledore continued.

"You will? Sir, thank you, thank you, thank you..."

"You," Dumbledore interrupted, "Will tell Ron Weasley."

---

"Hermione, make up your mind," Harry sighed. "Do you want me here when Ron gets here or not?"

"I don't... I don't know, Harry, I don't know what to say, I don't..."

Harry grabbed her by the hands. "Here's what you say. Tell him that you know how important Quidditch is to him, and that you didn't want him distracted, you didn't want to be a burden, and that you and Snape have worked something out so that you can get through your Binding at Hogwarts with..."

"Dear God, Harry, you were almost sorted into Slytherin."

"The fine art of the spin is one of the many things you taught me, Hermione. If you weren't utterly freaked, you'd be thinking of these things yourself."

"Okay, okay, okay," Hermione's breath was coming in fast little gulps.

"All right, I'm gonna go. I'll be outside the door, okay? If he tries to strangle you, I'll Stun him."

"Oh Harry, you're so reassuring and supportive..."

"Said I was almost a Slytherin, not a Hufflepuff," Harry grinned, closing the door behind him.

---

"You're really not joking?" Ron said for the fifteenth time, his knuckles white on the mantlepiece. "You're... you're really going to make babies with Snape?"

So far, this had gone better than Hermione had ever expected. Ron's main reaction seemed to be switching between nausea and concern.

"Well..." Hermione said lightly. "Just two babies, really..."

"Mum will think you're a wuss," Ron chuckled, then looked at her. "I think you're awfully brave."

"He's not so bad, Ron, honestly, he's... he gave me biscuits once!"

"Biscuits, eh? If I'd known that was all it took..."

Hermione sighed. "Ron... are you awfully disappointed?"

"I am... and I'm not." Ron knocked on the mantlepiece, looking for words. "The thing is, Hermione... I love you, you know? I love your brains and your daring and all the little bits about you, y'know? If I married you, I'd want to marry you... not some Dorcas-Longbottom-zombie-creature who just looks like you, y'know?"

Hermione smiled, her heart breaking a little.

Ron, if you'd said that to me a few days ago... we wouldn't be here...

"And maybe..." Ron bit his lip. "Well, maybe, when you're UnBound, and if you wanted to... we could get married. Really married, y'know. I could help you with the babies... I know loads about babies..."

Ron sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand. "And I'll help you with the babies, anyway. Whether you... you want to marry me or not. I'll always help you, Hermione... you know that, right?"

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. "I know that, Ron."

"I'd kiss you, but you'd puke on me, wouldn't you?"

"I'd puke on you."

"Alright. How about a hug, then?"

Hermione let Ron fold her into his arms, her heart beating wildly. Warmth, safety, security... Ron really loved her, honestly cared about her...

What the hell have I done? What the hell have I done?

"Okay, Hermione. I've got to go, okay? Be... be careful."

"I will be."

"Love you," Ron said simply, giving her a peck on the forehead.

---

Hermione pulled bottles off the shelf, setting them on the tray, her hands trembling.

What have I done? God, what have I done?

One of her best friends loved her -- genuinely loved her -- and instead of him, she'd chosen Snape. Snape, who was a spy, an undercover Death Eater, a man who had made himself into a machine, excised every part of him that didn't fit with The Cause...

Harry's going to turn into him, isn't he? If he doesn't kill Voldemort soon, that's exactly what Harry will do... Harry's already doing it...

Hermione's mind scrabbled back to the things she'd seen in the Pensieve.

Professor Snape does not like liabilities.

Snape wanted to be hated, wanted to keep all kindness at bay...

Your aim is lousy, Mudblood...

He'd never care for her. He'd never let himself. And if he ever did, by accident, why... he'd take that memory right out of his head. The next day, he'd give her the same black stare... she'd never get anywhere with him, ever...

She'd married him because of that stupid vision in the Pensieve, and it wasn't even real. It was a fantasy, something he'd made up, something that disgusted him so much he'd had to remove his memory of it...

Hermione let out a choking sob, the bottle trembling in her hand.

"There is no need for this, Miss Granger," said a velvety voice behind her.

Hermione nearly dropped the tray, backing away from him.

Snape entered the room, his arms crossed, regarding her. "I am well enough to teach my class today."

Scream at me! Get it over with!

"That's-that's good, P-Professor..."

Snape took the tray from her trembling hands and set it down on the table.

"Miss Granger. If you are so terrified of me, may I ask why you decided to marry me?"

His voice was still deadly soft, in a way even scarier than his shouts, and Hermione gulped. "Du-Dumbledore said he would talk to y-you..."

"Dumbledore did speak with me. He was not, however, capable of sharing the contents of your mind, what on earth possessed you to do such an incredibly stupid thing. And I must confess, I find myself quite interested. I had labored under the delusion that you were somewhat intelligent."

Snape blurred before her as Hermione's eyes swam. God, he hated her. She was Bound to him, and he hated her... her life was going to be hell...

"Speak up," Snape commanded. "My curiousity is piqued. You knew I absolutely did not want to marry you, you knew I only signed that bid in an apparently misguided attempt to help you, to help you overcome your rather idiotic decision to hurl yourself under Mr. Potter in front of Mr. Weasley... and now you have forced me to either suffer your presence for the rest of my life, or to father your brats."

Tears rolled down Hermione's face.

"Speak up, Miss Granger."

"I-I don't know."

"You don't know. That's fabulous. You've invaded my life to an unbearable extent, and you don't know why. Miss Granger, I applaud you. I thought I had lived to see the depths of human stupidity plumbed to their utmost, and thanks to you I find there is yet more to discover."

"I thought..."

"No, Miss Granger... it's quite clear that you did no such thing."

Hermione's chest heaved, her hands clenching into fists. "You are such a horrid, horrid man."

"Miss Granger, if that's the best you can come up with, our marriage won't give me any kind of pleasure..."

"I'll break the Binding. You won't have to suffer my presence."

"Oh? And how do you plan to accomplish that? Accost Cornelius Fudge? Take the Ministry hostage? You're only two-thirds of your former mayhem triumverate, Miss Granger, I think you'll find that..."

"It breaks if I die," Hermione spat.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Of all the melodramatic, adolescent..."

"You forget, Snape," Hermione hissed. "I'm Bound to you, remember? Your love is all in the world that I crave, right? My mind's not my own, my will's not my own, I'm utterly crazed without you. Who knows what I'll do?"

"Miss Granger, you are being utterly puerile..."

Hermione raised her wand, pointed it at herself...

"You can't commit suicide with a Killing Curse, Miss Granger..."

... and snapped it in two.

Snape's jaw dropped. "You utter idiot."

"I'm going home."

"You can't go home, you..."

"Watch me," Hermione said, and turned the stone in her ring to the right.